


Good life

by ToxicPineapple



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Conversations, Hey man i'm in a mood, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, No underage alcohol use in this house fellas, Nostalgia, Phone Call, Sort Of, They're adults, alcohol use, all lowercase, i'm doing okay lads, implied romantic feelings, it's just Like That, just mentioned, past relationship, rip akifumi, shuichi needs to become spiderman somehow y'know, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: rantaro doesn’t smoke-- he thinks it’s a nasty habit-- but he wishes he did. it would taste awful, he imagines, and destroy his lungs, but hey. he’s already fucking up his body with the alcohol.as things are, he settles for the condensation that comes from his lips in visible puffs, floating up into the light air. good life is still playing in his head on repeat, like a catchy commercial jingle, except instead of reminding him to buy a product it reminds him of what he had and what he destroyed. rantaro closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose. he’s been all over the world (to paris, china, and colorado) and he’s drank in so much clean, clear air, yet for some reason he still prefers the ugly, gross-tasting pollution of japan.it’s disgusting, it really is, but there’s a familiarity in that kind of grossness.---rantaro calls his ex.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	Good life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [dark roast](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263123) by [sunflower_8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8). 



> sometimes there’s airplanes i can’t jump out  
> sometimes there’s bullshit that don’t work out  
> we all got our stories but please tell me  
> what there is to complain about
> 
> -good life, onerepublic

the plan isn’t to call shuichi saihara because seven years apart is seven years too many to be asking for favours. but the bar is playing onerepublic and that was their band back then, and the smell of alcohol is overwhelming to the point that rantaro can barely gather a coherent thought, much less practice impulse control enough not to call his ex-boyfriend of eight years.

he’s never been good at holding his alcohol. he learned that with shuichi, actually-- not because they were drinking because they didn’t do that; rantaro was just as irresponsible then as he is now, the kind of person to rush headfirst into danger and dare the world to kill him, beg it to do so as a matter of fact, but he was never the kind to… to indulge. there were just accidents. small incidents of a spiked punch here and there. never enough to be truly harmful. he indulges now, though. whenever he’s not on a plane or a boat, speaking foreign languages and smiling foreign smiles, he’s at some small bar, tipping the bartender and keeping to himself.

usually he takes a cab home. or an uber. but he’s had one too many drinks tonight and he doesn’t want to talk to a stranger. this place is swimming with strangers actually, unfamiliar face upon unfamiliar face, and they all smell bad like the booze on his breath, and for a minute it doesn’t seem like a bad idea, calling shuichi saihara.

that’s until he gets outside though, propping himself up in an alleyway and swallowing down the taste of bile on his tongue. without that music and without all those voices, rantaro is able to contemplate the reason why his thumb is hovering over the call icon, has been for so long.

shuichi works at a publishing company. his uncle passed a couple years ago, and after akifumi was gone he must not have seen the appeal of solving mysteries. publishing  _ books  _ never seemed his passion either, back in high school, but that was then. this is now. sometimes rantaro happens across a picture of him on facebook or instagram, and he looks… happy. or as happy as one can be, having lost the closest thing he had to a father figure such a short time ago.

(rantaro had… meant to call. stared at the phone for almost an hour, in fact. but by the time he was about to convince himself to, his plane arrived and he had to go, and after that the opportunities just kept on slipping from him until it was much too late. besides, shuichi wouldn’t appreciate a call like that, not from him, not after all this time.)

he wouldn’t appreciate a call like  _ this,  _ either. at least if he’d called then he’d have been expressing condolences. now he’d be asking a favour when he can just as easily call a cab. or an uber. he doesn’t like ubers though, doesn’t like clean car scent and sitting in the backseat and listening to music in languages he doesn’t understand. he doesn’t like the silence or the judgement and he doesn’t like transactional things. he deals with so many of those on his travels,  _ i’ll do this for you if you get me this information, i’ll help you if you help me find my sister, i’ll tell you this if you tell me that,  _ and they’re… rarely beneficial, really. at least on his own side.

it wasn’t like the breakup was on bad terms. shuichi felt like they weren’t communicating properly and he was right. the problem was rantaro, really-- because after that rantaro did what he was good at, he put chains over his heart and then he ran. and he’s had the occasional fling in the eight years since then, a girlfriend or two, someone to take the edge off the loneliness of constant searching, but nobody has ever come as close as shuichi did.

rantaro doesn’t smoke-- he thinks it’s a nasty habit-- but he wishes he did. it would taste awful, he imagines, and destroy his lungs, but hey. he’s already fucking up his body with the alcohol.

as things are, he settles for the condensation that comes from his lips in visible puffs, floating up into the light air.  _ good life  _ is still playing in his head on repeat, like a catchy commercial jingle, except instead of reminding him to buy a product it reminds him of what he had and what he destroyed. rantaro closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose. he’s been all over the world (to paris, china, and colorado) and he’s drank in so much clean, clear air, yet for some reason he still prefers the ugly, gross-tasting pollution of japan.

it’s disgusting, it really is, but there’s a familiarity in that kind of grossness. like the taste of beer. rantaro laughs bitterly, running a shaky hand through his hair, wondering what happened to him, to turn him into this. he was happy, once. and his happiness wasn’t even contingent on shuichi; there was a time when he could really just smile, and mean it. there were people who cared about him who hadn’t been all chased away yet. things that mattered to him other than faceless family members who have long since disappeared.

ten years after his last sister disappeared and rantaro hasn’t found a single one of them. what a joke.

maybe he  _ should  _ have told shuichi about it. but what good would it have done? not like shuichi could’ve helped him search; he couldn’t have asked that of his highschool boyfriend. maybe he would still be here now, if rantaro had told. probably not, though. he’s a different person, now. a happy person. rantaro can only dream of that kind of peace of mind.

he ends up pressing the call button anyway. his thoughts are muddled and he’s not really planning on asking for a ride-- but he wants to say something, hello, how’ve you been, i’m sorry. something.

it rings four times. each ring seems to last infinitely longer than the last, but rantaro blames that on the alcohol. the ringing ends with a soft click, and then a deafening silence on the other end. he briefly entertains the notion that shuichi rejected his call, that he merely has a strange voicemail message, but then--

_ “rantaro?” _

there’s… probably good reason for the incredulity in his tone. after high school, rantaro sort of… fucked off. he’s been around but the days when his old classmates tried to reach out to him are long since over. there’s only so much ghosting any one person can take. not that shuichi tried particularly hard. he sent one message-- and then, rantaro assumes, his anxiety said,  _ that’s enough,  _ and that was it.

_ “uhm-- are you there? is this a buttdial? i didn’t even know you still had this number,”  _ shuichi’s voice chuckles on the other end, probably just to fill space. his laugh is… richer. but at its heart it’s the same. rantaro screws his eyes shut and clings to the sound.  _ “i’m starting to think this really is a buttdial, maybe i should--” _

“wait,” rantaro utters, and shuichi stops talking. he hears breath hitching over the line, shuffling, as though shuichi is sitting up, adjusting his position. “i’m here. sorry. brain’s not really working.”

_ “mm. i understand,”  _ shuichi’s voice has a twitch of a smile in it. just the slightest hint of one. rantaro can’t remember what that smile used to look at. can hardly remember the exact shade of shuichi’s eyes. but he remembers how it felt to gaze into them.  _ “is something the matter? your speaking is a bit slurred.”  _ he pauses.  _ “are you drunk?” _

ever the detective. “i wanted to apologise.”

_ “apologise? what for?” _

“your uncle. i heard. i mean, i heard when it happened-- i just… i never called. i’m not sure why i didn’t.”

shuichi is quiet. rantaro imagines that he’s heavily considering hanging up.

“also yes, i am drunk, but don’t… worry about that. that’s not why i called.” well, it  _ is,  _ but it’s not what rantaro wants to talk about. after he gets off the phone he’ll call an uber. or he’ll stay right here and pass out until morning, when he’s slept off the alcohol. “i didn’t just want to apologise for akifumi, though. there’s a lot of shit that i should probably say sorry to you for.”

_ “rantaro… where are you?” _

“remember when i promised that i was going to stick around forever? even after our relationship ended, i said that i’d… be there. and i haven’t,” he chuckles, bitterly, not really feeling it.

_ “do you need to be picked up? i have a car now, i can drive by and--” _

“you don’t need to do that, shuichi. i’m sure whoever you’re seeing now won’t be very happy to hear about you driving out to pick up your drunk ex from a bar.” rantaro tilts his head back against the wall, gazing up at the stars that he can’t see. “i was just thinking about high school, that’s all.”

_ “i…”  _ shuichi’s hesitation is heavy; it weighs a thousand pounds. rantaro drinks it in, closing his eyes.  _ “i think about it too.” _

“it’s bound to pop into your head every now and again, huh?” rantaro smiles. “we had one hell of a homeroom class.”

_ “that’s not what i meant. i mean that i think about you, rantaro. and where you are now.” _

rantaro’s not entirely sure how to reply to that, so he doesn’t.

_ “i always imagined us getting back together after that, once we both learned how to communicate better. but, ah,”  _ shuichi hums.  _ “instead i sort of pushed you away from me for good.” _

“no, you didn’t do any pushing. that was me,” rantaro runs a hand through his hair. he hates being drunk. usually it’s the only way to get all the awful things to shut off, but right now it feels like they’re all front and center, choking him from the inside and burning at his eyes. “i owed you honesty and i was too scared to give it. you had every right to break up with me.”

_ “mmm. i said to myself that i was doing it for you. that you needed time. i don’t know. everything was messy back then.”  _ more quietly, shuichi says,  _ “i don’t think this is the best time to rehash all of that, though-- not when you’re… inebriated. i don’t think that’s really fair to you.” _

“i can’t imagine a time other than this that i would be honest with you,” rantaro says.

shuichi doesn’t reply.

“sorry. it was never about you, shuichi. it was always me.” he sighs. “i thought it was something that i could keep to myself and there would be no repercussions. but there are always repercussions.”

_ “what was?” _

there it is again, shuichi’s curiosity. rantaro smiles.

_ “rantaro i… there is no person who i’m currently seeing. i haven’t seen anybody since i broke up with you eight years ago.”  _ the confession takes rantaro off guard, such that he has no idea how to respond. his throat dries out and he closes his eyes. that wasn’t what he was anticipating, but the thought doesn’t make him happy. that means that shuichi’s not the only one who wasn’t able to move on. it’s not a good thing.  _ “please, just let me know where you are, i’ll come pick you up. we-- we don’t have to talk about it, i’d just like to get you come safely. are you still staying with your father?” _

“i have a flight booked for tomorrow,” rantaro responds instead. “wouldn’t want to bother you to come here when i’m taking off right after.”

shuichi sighs.  _ “you’ve never been a bother to me. you’re the only one who ever saw yourself that way.” _

there’s no good response to that. rantaro prepares to hang up; crying over the phone would be ridiculous.

_ “don’t hang up--”  _ shuichi says quickly. the plea is enough to stop rantaro in his tracks, if only because he has no idea how shuichi knew that he would.  _ “please, rantaro.” _

he’s always hated hearing shuichi sound pained like that. his response eight years ago would’ve been to hang up regardless and hop on the earliest flight out of the country. anything to run from his emotions.

instead, rantaro hears himself whispering the name of the bar into the receiver.

he doesn’t remember shuichi coming to pick him up, climbing into his car, any of that. perhaps the alcohol blurs it out, or perhaps rantaro’s brain on its own is just too fuzzy for any of it to register. it doesn’t really matter. when he wakes up the following morning he’s sleeping in a guest bedroom at shuichi’s apartment, not his own, and he can smell eggs frying through the cracked door.

(quietly, rantaro cancels his flight.)

**Author's Note:**

> i got feelings guys
> 
> i'm Not going to continue this so i have no problem with telling u that rantaro and shuichi do have a long talk after this and they don't get back together.
> 
> (at least, not right away. but shuichi agrees to help rantaro search-- even though he was never asked-- and things are awkward for a really long time until one day rantaro wakes up and realises that he trusts shuichi, really and wholly and truly, and then... well, i'll leave it up to the imagination)
> 
> i love onerepublic. good life is my favourite song. gets me nostalgic 100% of the time. if i am vibing and u play this song i will cry i'm just saying bro
> 
> edit: forgot to mention so im back to edit this was semi-inspired by a fic of sun's. similar premise idk anyway ily


End file.
